ARTISTS TALKING

# 39 [29 December 2007]

GRAVEYARD OF AMBITION

Everyone talks about what a great move forward these studios are for Exeter. Well done you, good luck, thanks, great job. It's nice of people to offer encouragement - and it's the only thing many people can offer - but it's no substitute for practical help or cash.

That's why the guest artists who gave work for our fundraiser were so important. Or the handful of local organisations who've made donations of cash, goods or services. (We're still waiting to hear the council's decision on business rates relief.)

Encouragement sometimes comes with advice which, though well-meaning, casts a very limited role for us in the city's cultural life. It's one in which we provide a nice little art and craft market to complement the shiny new shopping centre up the road, preferably with a few kids' workshops thrown in. In return, and if we labour hard enough over the appropriate paperwork, we might be granted the odd handout to help "do a bit of publicity" and such like.

While I have no objection to such activities (and know that many of our members are very keen to participate in workshops and selling events), I feel it's a distraction from the big issues we face (like keeping a roof over our heads) and the real opportunities we present for the city, its artists and their audiences.

In particular, there's an underlying assumption that the artists in our space have no intention - or indeed history - of showing work much beyond the city boundaries. It's provincialism gone mad. It ignores the fact that we could offer significant cultural and economic value to Exeter through our national and international connections. Maybe I'm suffering delusions of grandeur, but I do believe a little ambition is appropriate here.

Bristol and Plymouth city councils both provide practical support for their artists through subsidised studio rents (via Spike Island and Flameworks respectively). It may be partly because these councils have greater access to regeneration funding than Exeter, but it's also about vision.

When I first arrived in this city four years ago, the lovely Californian woman who worked in the wholefood store told me that Exeter was "the graveyard of ambition". She suggested people come here for a quiet life: horizons are narrow and everyone likes it that way. She hardly seemed like an example of it herself, so I laughed it off - but, at times, the idea still haunts me.

# 38 [18 December 2007]

REAL ESTATE

An off-duty, artist-friendly commercial estate agent I spoke to the other week guessed our current building would be worth £300k-£400k on the open market - if it were just a warehouse. However, its city-centre redevelopment potential makes it worth "seven figures". If it wasn't on such a short and insecure lease we couldn't afford to rent it. Even if we could organise funding to buy a building like it, we'd never be able to fight off the developers. All over Exeter, every available piece of land is being sold off and turned into shops, offices or flats - with the full and enthusiastic support of the city council.

Without the council or another powerful organisation backing us, it's debatable whether we'll manage to make a seamless move to another building, which is a problem as it's so central to our purpose and our identity. Until we had a building as a focus, we struggled to hold a group of people together to work on the project. (Francis and me are the only ones who have remained consistently involved from the very first meeting through to Red Lion Lane).

Quite apart from the fact that it provides much-needed workspace for Exeter's artists (29 resident, 14 on the waiting list, and counting), the building's sheer physical presence has given us credibility we previously lacked. It's shown we're practical and resourceful, grown up and capable. We get things done.

It's also bound us together as a group. We don't just bump into each other around town, at openings, in the galleries - we meet each at work. Sometimes every day. It makes it easy to exchange information and ideas, gossip and news.

It has slightly set us apart from the more typical home-based Exeter artists who, for all their hard work and professionalism, probably don't register with the council as real force to be reckoned with. It's like we got unionised.

Not all my parts of my practice require a studio, but I've decided I definitely do. I really believe at least some artists need to keep up the tradition of being together in spaces and making mess and noise. Despite the attractions of digital and time-based practice and despite the feeling that virtual communities can stand in for actual ones.

Fine art degree courses have been accused of championing digital practice because it allows them to cram in more students per square metre. No fuss, no mess, very little real estate. A city council could take the same view and choose to promote digital and film-based arts over other visual arts. Such thoughts make our shabby, draughty warehouse feel like a fortress against invisibility and isolation.

# 37 [13 December 2007]

TOGETHERNESS - PART II

It's been extremely cold this week and the lack of proper heating has kept the studios quiet. Quiet apart from the four screaming smoke alarms that greeted me on Tuesday morning. No sign of a fire. It's happened before and we blamed the tandoor oven in the takeaway across the road. But this early in the morning, it has to be the cold and the damp that's setting them off.

We may not be seeing much of each other but we're drawn together anyway. Just being in one space where people can find us is throwing up all sorts of opportunities. I really hadn't expected the benefits (and possible hazards) of our group status to kick in so quickly, but they have.

For example, we have the opportunity to exhibit together at the offices of a local company: ROK. They used to offer their huge double-height reception area to the art college as space for a rolling show of student work, but now the college has left town they've got bare walls. Exeter Artspaces to the rescue! The interesting question for me is how far our work can - or should - sit together like this. It's one thing to show the diversity of our practice in context at an opening event, but something different again to present ourselves in a gallery-like environment as a coherent group. It's an interesting experiment and I'm keen to see what Adrian and Zoe - our volunteer curators - will make of it.

PS Still trying to sort out the collaboration stuff. Directors are divided between those making lists of tasks ready for delegation and those who believe we should keep it altogether more relaxed and spontaneous. "I'm up for a sort of spiritual democracy built on love, but I don't know who'd do the admin." Russell Brand on Have I got news for you

# 36 [7 December 2007]

TOGETHERNESS

At the weekend, clearing up after the party I'm feeling AMAZED at how much we've achieved in just three and half months. It's been a good week: I earned some money. I slept. I slept some more. I uncovered the floors of my house again after spending weeks walking over a layer of papers, tools and unwashed clothes. And I had a whole afternoon in my studio painting.

Several people got in touch to tell us we'd been wonderful darlings. We got yet more press (official crowd estimate 200). Everyone looks a bit glowy - or is that just the fact they've finally got some sleep? Lots of excitement about what we've done and where we could go. We're talking about another open event in the spring. We're even talking about a permanent project/gallery space in the studios and wondering if we have the time and money to run it.

Also we had two visitors this week who couldn't make it to the opening but were really keen to see us: Liz Harkman, the Exeter City Arts & Events Officer and Lee Morgan from Art in Devon magazine. Both are incredibly well connected, very knowledgeable about the opportunities and problems in the local visual arts scene and very excited about what we've done. In fact, Lee looked slightly giddy with it all.

I should really sit back and bask a little, but with more time to think I'm becoming anxious about the management stuff. By setting up the CIC we've given ourselves longevity, limited liability and kudos with funders but we have also set a legal monster in motion. We directors have responsibilities that - frankly - we have so far largely ignored.

Some of it is paperwork we just have to grow up and get down to. Some of it is stuff we need to do to look after ourselves in a legal sense - for example knowing our data protection responsibilities, doing the paperwork to accompany our health and safety measures and putting in proper financial controls.

But some of it is fundamental to what we do and how we do it. It's not just that we need more help, it's that our members expect to help, to be consulted, to be involved. It's what they signed up to.

The directors do not own the business; they serve it. The CIC Memorandum & Articles of Association (the big fat legal documents lodged with Companies House that govern what we do) make this abundantly clear. We simply must solve the collaboration problem. And we must do it fast as there are decisions to be made together before we can move any further forward.

# 35 [1 December 2007]

THE LAST SEVEN DAYS

Acres of unpainted walls, heavy furniture to move around, studios to clear and turn into exhibition spaces, unfinished lighting, health and safety glitches, rubbish everywhere - and very few people to help: the early part of the week felt lonely and overwhelming.

By Tuesday lunchtime, I was sending out desperate emails. "Do you think maybe we have some problems with this whole collaboration thing?" asked Tracey, one of the few who answered my plea, despite suffering from pharyngitis. Do I?! Something that could have been fun in a large group became a grim, exhausting chore. I was rollering white emulsion in my sleep. Ruth took time out from organising food to come in and give a bit of moral support. She even gamely wielded a paintbrush for an hour, but she's way past anything too strenuous now.

By Wednesday I was so exhausted that when one of my fellow directors phoned me up to tell me she couldn't hire a promised patio heater I nearly lost it. It wasn't that it was such a big deal, or such a big job, it was just that I couldn't understand how, along with almost everything else, it had become my problem.

But we got there. By late Thursday afternoon the paint was dry, the exhibition spaces looked fabulous, most of the maintenance problems had been solved and several more people had arrived to help set up the show. I have to hand it to our exhibition crew - especially Adrian - who managed to get a really coherent show 85% sorted by 8.30pm. Given the awkwardness of the spaces, the diversity of the work and the number of egos involved, it was little short of miraculous.

So was it worth it? Definitely. On the night, driving rain and streaming colds kept many away but the event still buzzed. We played host to lots of artists but not many representatives from the council or business, which gives a good indication of the mountain we have to climb. We had a few visitors from significant arts organisations like the Phoenix (our local arts centre) and Devon Artsculture (an important local arts support organisation) but also some notable absences.

We finished loads of jobs it would otherwise have taken weeks to get around to. We got to publicly celebrate our achievement. We raised more than £300. We all got to see each other and each other's work in scrubbed-up exhibition style for the first time. We definitely took another important step in raising our profile.

It was so much work that it's tempting to go back to my studio and wait for the support to roll in. But if this was even 10% of what we need to do to have a hope of future survival, I'd be surprised. There are loads of leads, contacts and questions to follow up. We need a break but if we leave it too long, the momentum will be lost.

There are problems to solve. Too much dithering and not enough delegation at the start of planning for the opening meant that consultation went out the window. Things became simply too urgent to debate and we lost the fragile thread of collaboration. Though most people helped a bit in the end, I estimate that 20% of the members did 80% of the work for this event.

I also think it highlighted some fundamental differences between the directors about what we're here for and how we should achieve it. I can feel tensions rising, egos jostling, politics beginning. I have some serious thinking to do.

# 34 [21 November 2007]

WHAT DO YOU REALLY WANT?

Years ago I remember reading something which said: "you can always have what you most want, as long as you don't expect to have all the other things you want".

So, if you want plenty of leisure, don't expect to get rich. If you want a high-flying career, don't expect to spend lots of time with your family. And if you want to get a studio project off the ground (and I mean a sustainable project, not just a bunch of artists temporarily renting a warehouse) don't expect your life to carry on as normal.

Of course there are people who "have it all" (or would like you to believe they do) but somewhere along the line they have definitely prioritised. Consciously or unconsciously, everyone does.

I would guess that hardly anyone in the studios has the success of the project as their top priority. I reckon that for many it comes a poor second or third or even sixth to paid work, family and friends, study, leisure time, studio practice etc. And let me say, this is fine by me. People's priorities are absolutely their own business.

It is my top priority at the moment. I've had to cut my paid work back and have scaled down my social life. Even home life has been absorbed into it as Tim, my partner, now spends almost as much time on the project as me: boarding spaces, fitting lights, fixing leaky gutters, installing fire equipment, printing invitations and so on.

But after the opening, things will change. The project itself will come after my studio practice (I wouldn't do it at all if I didn't want somewhere to work) and after paid work (otherwise I can't afford it). And Tim and me are getting some of our life back.

Yet because we're a group, if we all work together, with even a handful of us having it fairly high on our list of priorities, it will probably survive. But for those who are lurking in corners claiming: "I'm too busy to help" or "I just want to be in my studio working at my own practice", I think, well OK, but don't moan if the studio project is gone for good in six months time.

It wasn't easy to get this project off the ground. If it was, Exeter would be full of studios rather than full of artists complaining that they have nowhere suitable to work. And if it fails it will be doubly hard to do again, because we'll have lost the faith of all the organisations who've supported us so far. Now it's here and real, it's easy to believe it will never go away (particularly for those who weren't involved at the very start). But it is so very fragile.

You can go to the pub rather than put up boards. You can sit in your studio while your pregnant colleague paints walls. You can poach our electrician for your own home improvements before he's finished our wiring. You can do all these things because you can always have what you most want. As long as you don't expect to have all the other things you want. Such as a decent, affordable workplace to share.

# 33 [16 November 2007]

14 DAYS TO GO

The opening night is fast approaching, so we called a big studio meeting last Saturday. It's only the second time we've all been in the space together; the first was when we handed over the keys. So some members are still strangers to each other. But, if the event comes off, we'll be stuck together with the glue of shared achievement.

Over two-thirds of our members turn up and are full of suggestions, comments and offers of practical help. Quite a relief when you're feeling as stressed and weary as I am.

My lengthy to-do list, which I feared might mark me out as a most monstrous bureaucrat, actually proves incredibly useful. It means people can see precisely what needs to be done and get on with it without having to ask anyone. Vital when we're all working different hours. Note to self: when you're trying to organise 30+ people, lists and sign-up sheets can actually help.

This week we've cleared the mountain of rubbish on our yard, installed the fire equipment properly, put up extra lighting, got our insurance sorted out, started to build a kiln area, done all our press work and begun painting our acres of walls...

Meanwhile, several well-known artists have put their weight behind us and volunteered to help with a fundraising project. We only dared ask after much nervous procrastination. We expected to be ignored or rejected - after all, established artists have to work hard to pay their studio fees too. But the response has been incredibly warm and generous.

We're making amazing progress, but we still have issues with management and delegation. It's mixture of things: poor communication, differing priorities, lack of experience and lack of time. Plus of course, some of us (OK, me) are very tired and getting just a teeny bit ratty. We'll muddle through but - gawd - it's hard work sometimes.

One major gaffe. We've discovered too late that the first conference of the National Federation of Artists' Studio Providers http://www.nfasp.org.uk at Spike Island clashes with our opening. It means we'll miss this important networking opportunity and, presumably, several of our guests will choose them over us.

# 32 [9 November 2007]

AREN'T PARTIES SUPPOSED TO BE FUN?

The invitation list for the opening has become as much of an obsession for me as the member mailing list was several months back. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking of important people I haven't located.

Members are making lots of suggestions: some very precise (name, job title, organisation, email address) and some more in the vein of "you simply must invite that bloke Steve who manages that art thingy". This is a kind of torture for me as I then feel compelled to find him - just in case he's the one who'll save us from certain closure in 18 months time.

On Tuesday I started emailing, hand delivering and posting invitations. Ticking them off the list gives only temporary relief. It's one more job done but it really sets the wheels in motion. In just over three weeks' time, people are going to be turning up at our building expecting a party. Aargh!

Ruth F meanwhile is fiercely and very pregnantly supervising a health and safety sort-out: organising rubbish removal, metal recycling, electrics certification, risk assessments and insurance. She claims she's diverted her nesting instinct to the studio.

To be honest, there's a mismatch of expectations about the opening night. Some people think it's a right bloody nuisance having to clear up their studios and invite the public in. Others think it's great we're having a party, but why do we have to invite all those boring officials? And me? I'm really pleased to be able to say thank you to all the people who've helped us get this far.

But also, I'm pinning lots of hopes (probably far too many) on making seriously good contacts for the future. I want the power and money behind us to make sure we swim rather than sink when we have to leave Red Lion Lane.

# 31 [3 November 2007]

ON BEING THE BAD GUY

Ruth F. went on a free health and safety training day for social enterprises and came away quite terrified. We knew it was a weak point, but it turns out there's even more to do than we thought. When you're a small organisation getting by on the barest essentials, it feels overwhelmingly complex.

I wondered if it made any difference being a membership organisation as opposed to an employer, but the message was "no". Our studios might be a private workspace for which all members share responsibility, but the company still has a legal duty to enforce their collective health and safety.

I suppose it's only right. I don't want to get hurt because the person in the next door studio does something stupid. But it's also very wearying. You won't believe how hard people will defend their right to switch back on a power supply that's been declared dangerous or block fire exits with bulky furniture. You end up feeling like an enemy of artistic freedom for even raising it. And you only dare raise it when you have at least 20 minutes to spare because it is never ever a short conversation.

Health and safety is an important issue but if we want to waste less time on it, I reckon we should stop being so damned patient and polite.

# 30 [29 October 2007]

MY MISSING EIGHT HOURS

Maybe it's because winter's coming and I have a sudden deluge of work BUT I'm having some dark moments where I feel the to-do pile for the studios is insurmountable. We've got so much to sort out ... and an opening to organise ... and a director who's about to disappear to have a baby.

This past week, amongst other things, we've had to deal with the new recycling legislation, the installation of a new electricity meter and registering for corporation tax. And the light and power saga goes on. Then there are invite lists to research and a schedule to prepare. Also, unbelievably, we're still chasing some members to set up standing orders.

What does any of this have to do with being an artist?

It doesn't help that I'm in my studio, snatching a couple of hours away from money work, and end up in protracted discussions about building and maintenance issues. It even follows me back to work via my mobile.

So here's the thing: how much of my own practice am I prepared to sacrifice to allow other people to do theirs?

I know that the workload will never be completely fairly shared: people have different responsibilities, abilities, commitments. I also know that, for all the talk of self-help and collaboration, only a few of us can see the bank statements and sign cheques. That means members do need advice and decisions from us.

As long as I'm convinced that each person is doing as much as they can to help, when they can, I'm happy. But I also have a mantra: one-and-a-half days. From the start I've said that if - after earning money and running the studio - I average at least 1.5 days actually working in my studio per week, it's worth the hassle of collaboration. Anything less and I might as well not bother.

Right now I'm averaging fewer than four hours.